(...She looks motherly, yet like she's still breathtaking. That is beauty. It's not something you can apply to your face...)
I've been thinking a lot about my family, and the women in my family especially. I just wish I could have known them longer (or at all), talked to them about her life. Because it's not the same hearing stories without their own points of view, and insight. Isn't it wierd, that people go through their lives keeping secrets, or memories, and never getting around to sharing them?
I've been thinking about me personally, about my writing. I mean, seriously, I want to be a writer so badly, that when I hear someone tell me otherwise, I just want to scream.
I've been thinking about friends, and what it means to be one.
I've been thinking about love, and what it means to love someone. It's all so vague. Do I treat my family and friends well, or not?
I've been thinking about the "Real World", and how I can make it a place that doesn't give me wrinkles when I'm old. I don't want to tell people otherwise when I'm older; I really think that work and life can be beautiful if that's what you want to make it.
I need to study
to hug someone
Yet, I'm still not doing any of those things. I'm still thinking.